


can't be anyone but you

by Anonymous



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Experimental Style, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21714889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: They make time for each other.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22
Collections: Anonymous





	can't be anyone but you

**Author's Note:**

> exo has r u i n e d and saved my life. i've started a lot of fics since getting here, but this is the one i've decided to post (and finish) first. unbeta'd so forgive any mistakes.
> 
> (title is a lyric from baby you are by [exo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vLixC-wiUMI))
> 
> this is a work of _fiction_

Jongin doesn’t know what time it is, or what specific set of events have lead _him_ here— way earlier than the date Jongin has carefully marked down— but his body reacts before his mind does, and his hands are reaching out blindly and tugging down the owner of the familiar, gentle fingers that he woke up to, carding through his still damp hair.

He senses a smile against the column of his throat, and he grips as tight as he could through the haze of sleep that still enveloped him because if this were a dream, then he didn’t want to wake up, didn’t want all of it to end—

Then those fingers, which have always been so, so careful, find his jaw and his head is being tilted up, and when he finally opens his eyes, he feels as though his heart is trying to ram its way out of his throat.

He isn’t certain whether it’s from the exhaustion or not; his voice is barely there, and his throat is achingly constricted, but he has to ask, needs the reassurance that he isn’t dreaming: “Yixing hyung?”

“Nini,” Yixing says back, equally soft. “Go back to—”

Jongin doesn’t allow him to finish his sentence, opting to dragging him back down against the sheets, burying his face on his chest, holding onto him like he’ll disappear if he so much as lets go. It takes him several moments to realize that the choked up feeling he’s had has spread, there are pinpricks of tears stinging the backs of his eyes, because everything is Yixing, Yixing, _Yixing—_ who is back, who is _home_ after so, so long—and Jongin didn’t even _know._

“Jonginnie?” Yixing’s voice is concerned, and Jongin wants to tell him not to be; wants to cup his face and kiss him senseless until the both of them are gasping for breath, until they’re both distracted enough to not have to worry so much about there not being enough time, about nothing ever being _enough_ , but he’s frozen in his relief, and could only express it by holding on tighter.

This time, Yixing understands, and he shifts their position until he has Jongin lying on his side, arms and legs wrapped snugly around him, his hand cradling the back of his neck. He waits, patiently, for his sniffling to calm down, and Jongin wants to curse himself, for being like this, for worrying Yixing and wasting the little opportunity they have to be together, but it’s difficult when just lying here, in Yixing’s embrace, feels so impossibly _good_ , and he’s warm and safe like he hasn’t been for a long while.

“Do you want to talk?” Yixing’s breath is warm against the top of his head. It should be strange, being curled up against him like this when he’s the taller one of the two of them, but there’s something about the other man that makes him feel small, makes him feel like he wants to curl up unto himself until he’s small enough for Yixing to tuck into his own pocket bring around wherever he wishes.

He stays silent, though, stopping himself from generating any more false hope. But he does curl his fingers on the front of Yixing’s shirt. “Can you tell me how your time in China was?” He asks instead.

The laugh that he startles out of Yixing sends a warm thrill down his spine. They may have known each other for years now, but Jongin is sure that it is still his favorite sound.

“Why are you asking?” Yixing questions, and Jongin melts as he feels him nuzzling the crown of his head. He remembers how much time Yixing used to spend just being near him, leaning into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

_“Why do you keep doing that, hyung?” he had asked, after Yixing sneezed from—weirdly enough—sniffing him too much._

_“It’s ‘cause you smell good, Jongin-ah.” Yixing hummed with a small grin._

_Jongin had stared at him before he laughed in disbelief. “You’re so weird, hyung.”_

_Yixing had kissed him then, a small peck on the cheek that had his pulse jumping regardless. “You won’t have me any other way.”_

Jongin startles as Yixing pinches his nose, gently, “You’re spacing out on me now?”

“Just remembered something,” he says, and he sees Yixing rolls his eyes fondly at the small pout of his lips. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“You haven’t told me why you’re _asking_ it.” Yixing fires back. “Why are you so interested anyway?”

“’Cause it’ll be like I was with you the entire time you were away,” he says without much thought, and immediately regrets it, embarrassment painting his cheeks pink. “If you… tell… _Yah_ , don’t make me explain anymore!” Jongin complains, burrowing under his sheets as best as he could while Yixing—who was having the time of his life _giggling_ at his expense— was still wrapped around him.

“You’ve turned into quite the sap while I was away, Jonginnie?” Yixing teases. “I wasn’t even gone for that long.”

“I didn’t know you were coming back,” Jongin protests, voice muffled. “You gave, like, an estimated date which is, by the way, more than a week away from now. I wasn’t ready.”

“So you like getting ready for me hm?”

The smack Jongin gives him does little to quell his laughter. “Gross, hyung,” he complains. “That was terrible, even for you.”

Yixing’s eyes curve into tiny crescents as he laughs. His hands find Jongin’s under the sheets, their fingers lacing together with practiced ease. “I missed you,” he begins softly. “There was a project I was in, cancelled last minute. It was planned weeks in advance and the change of plans left at least a one week opening in my schedule.”

“So you came here?” Jongin asks, quiet. “You could’ve used the time for yourself, too.” He knows more than anyone how hard Yixing works. Having even at least a week free— in the kind of life they led, instances like that were a luxury that rarely came by.

“I am,” Yixing assures. His grip tightens around Jongin before he turns him over to face him. “This,” he says, carding his hand through Jongin’s mussed hair. “This is my home too.”

Jongin has always been good at reading between the lines.

Even in the dimness of the room, Jongin could make out the color of Yixing’s eyes, rendered a soft shade of brown in the lamplight, as he leaned down to kiss him.

It’s easy, Jongin thinks, to fall back to this familiar pattern. A bond strengthened by nights and nights on end, sometimes sleepless, sometimes filled to the brink with an exhaustion that left no room for anything else. Nights when they could do was reach out, wordlessly, to each other, and the only thing that made sense was Yixing’s presence by his side.

The time they’ve spent apart matters little now.

Jongin’s hand comes up to cup Yixing’s jaw, breath hitching in his throat as Yixing slides his fingers in his hair. His nails scratch lightly on his scalp and Jongin keens, pliant as Yixing maneuvers him to lie on his chest, rucking his shirt up to run heated touches on every inch of skin he exposes. Jongin gasps against Yixing’s lips as he feels hands cupping the curve of his ass and he grinds back in retaliation, reveling in the way Yixing hisses in response has grip tightening.

“Hyung,” Jongin manages hips moving erratically against the hardness filling under Yixing’s sweatpants. “Please—“

“Okay,” Yixing breathes. He cradles Jongin’s face, placing a surprisingly chaste on his forehead. “Okay. I got you.”

Jongin’s heart leaps. Normally Yixing would be the more hesitant between the two of them, always stepping on the brakes, always the one to pull away first when things got too heated and they were running low on time. 

Seeing his control wither, seeing him indulge even just for a bit, sends a thrill of gratification that shoots straight to Jongin’s groin.

His hands grip his hips as he sits up on the too tiny bed, and Jongin has to bite his lip to hold a groan because even in the dim lamplight, he could see how debauched Yixing already looks just from kissing him. Judging by the hungering glance he throws his way, he supposes he doesn't look that much better either.

“Shirt off now Jonginnie,” Yixing says, voice soft, low. “Get on your back and spread your legs for me.”

Jongin’s never stripped so quickly before. Yixing chuckles at his eagerness before leaning over him to rummage through the nightstand and producing a small bottle of lube packet of condoms.

Jongin inhales deeply as he feels the first cool press of Yixing’s finger circling his entrance, clutching tightly at the sheets as he coaxes his body to relax.

His whine when the first finger slips in devolves quickly into a moan when Yixing latches his lips on his neck. Plush lips mouth at his golden skin and leave a fiery trail as he makes his way down to his throat. Warmth engulfs his nipple, making Jongin’s back arch as Yixing’s tongue laves at the hardened nub in time with the prodding of his finger.

Tears prick his eyes as Yixing brushes against his prostate, cock pulsing and leaking with precum as he tries to rut up against Yixing desperately.

Yixing sucks a mark onto his chest as he slips another finger in, and by the time he's four fingers in his tight heat, Jongin’s a wanton mess on his sheets, begging for release.

“Gege please,” Jongin sobs. “Please, please I need to—I want to—”

Yixing pulls his fingers out to circle his cock, stopping what would have been his release. His hole clenches around thin air as his body shakes with the force of his dry orgasm, igniting his nerves and forcing his eyes shut.

“Not yet,” Yixing says, tone stern but gentle in his ministrations as he eases his fingers in again. “Let me make this good Jonginnie.”

Jongin nods, dazed, as Yixing settles between his legs again. His hand strokes down Jongin’s dick as his fingers resume their pace, thrusting in and out of his hole and missing his prostate by a hairsbreadth enough to drive him mad.

Jongin bites down a scream as he feels Yixing give his cock a tentative lick before slipping it into his mouth, tongue swirling around the head. His cheeks hollow as he sucks, pumping his fingers in the same rhythm. His dimple stands out starkly against the outline of Jongin’s dick on his cheek and it's so obscene that he has to moan, breathy and drawn out, as Yixing sucks him harder.

“Want you to fuck me gege,” he whines. “It's been too long please, let me have it, wanna feel you in me please Xing-ge—“

Yixing pulls off with a slick pop. “Not tonight baby,” he says, voice rough. “Practice later remember?”

“Bu-oh, hah—”

“You know I love taking my time with you,” Yixing teases, thumb pressing into his leaking slit. He presses a kiss against the inside of his thigh, nipping it and leaving faint red marks that stand out on his skin. “Want to see you coming apart bit by bit.”

Yixing crooks his fingers, and this time he hits his prostate dead on, riling Jongin up to the brink. When he feels his tongue lave around the stretch of his hole Jongin sees stars, hands closing into fists as he comes, hard enough to make his toes curl in the sheets.

Yixing’s palm strokes his spent cock up and down, his seed smearing against his pale skin.

Jongin parts his lips to suck Yixing’s digits clean, moaning at the taste and the feel of his fingertips against the sensitive pad of his tongue.

His lips replace his hands soon enough and Jongin let's himself be kissed, pliant in Yixing’s arms.

“Mm, hyung—” A press on his thigh makes him break away hazily as he realizes with a start that Yixing was still hard.

His hand moves down on its own accord. “May I—?”

“Tonight's about you Jongin,” Yixing reminds him. “I’m fine.”

“I want to take care of you too,” Jongin finds his bulge and squeezes lightly, eyes meeting Yixing’s imploringly. “Please let me.”

Without waiting for a response, he pulls out Yixing’s dick tracing his thumb around the head as he strokes. Yixing’s eyes flutter shut and his brows knit together, and Jongin thinks he's never seen a lovelier sight in his life.

Turning them over, he lays on his side, back to Yixing’s chest. He slots his hips to align with Yixing’s, before reaching behind to guide his dick between his pressed thighs.

Yixing’s groan reverberate across his back as he feels the elder come alive, responding easier to Jongin’s touches. He squirts just a little more lube across the seam of his legs and Yixing’s dick _slides_ between his plump thighs tearing a gasp from his throat.

Yixing growls as his hands grip Jongin’s hips. He begins to thrust forward on his own, Jongin doing his best to match his pace. His dick bumps the back of Jongin’s balls each time he ruts forward and soon Jongin feels the familiar coil of heat in his belly as his own cock begins to stir with interest.

Skin slapping skin, Yixing fucks his thighs, their harsh panting filling the room- damn if they don't hear an earful from their members later.

Jongin could feel his orgasm building and he presses his legs closer, “Xing-ge I'm—c-close please—“

“With me Jongin,” Yixing mouths against his sweat slicked shoulders, hand reaching down to tug at Jongin’s dick, “come with me.”

Jongin could do little but moan, head falling back onto Yixing’s chest as he reaches his peak a second time, spurting onto the sheets, as Yixing’s own cum paints the insides of his thighs.

He shivers as he Yixing pulls away, hyper aware of the slick slide of his soft cock. Any other night he'd lick it clean too, and probably coerce Yixing into fucking his mouth but he's so spent and fucked out to do anything more than watch as Yixing stands up to fetch a clean cloth to wipe themselves with.

A little more than an hour has passed when they settle back on the sheets together, freshly changed too cool against their still heated skin.

Jongin snuggles into Yixing’s arms and sighs contentedly, tangling their legs together. “Only have a few more hours before we have to get up,” Yixing whispers into his hair. “Do you have your alarm set?”

“I figured you could just wake me up, hyung,” Jongin says cheekily. “May I request for a kiss?”

“Brat,” Yixing says fondly. “Wake up yourself.”

“Won't be the same if you're not there to do it,” Jongin’s tone is playful, but the way he clutches harder onto Yixing says otherwise.

He meets his eyes in the semi darkness, as if asking, and Yixing melts, giving him a slow kiss as he smooths his hair from his forehead. “Alright then.” he says. “Sleep well, Nini.”

Jongin matches his dimpled smile with one of his own. He traces the features of Yixing’s face, holding onto the moment, because for now, his hyung is here, and not anywhere else. No matter how fleeting, this moment is theirs.

“Good night Xing-ge,” he says, soft enough to make Yixing’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks.

“Good night.”

*

*

*

Being with Yixing is easy. Staying with him is even easier—even if sometimes it isn’t. Distance, fatigue; these are all things that neither of them can control. But their time _together_ —that they can control, no matter how little of it they have. For so long as he has Yixing with him, each and every second, to Jongin, is precious.

He’s sure of it.

*

*

*

_(In the morning, Jongin wakes up slowly. The way the light fills his room tells him the sun only just rose. He stretches, toes curling, before turning on his side. A messy head of hair peeking out from the covers. A toned arm clutching onto a pillow, pinks lips parted in time with soft, warm breaths._

_Yixing is home.)_

**Author's Note:**

> ʸᵉˡˡˢ


End file.
